


Orpheus

by Impressioniste



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-04
Updated: 2014-03-04
Packaged: 2018-01-14 12:05:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,111
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1265869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Impressioniste/pseuds/Impressioniste
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anders goes to his Calling.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Orpheus

**Author's Note:**

> Very, very old piece of fic. Originally written as a birthday gift for kinneas/ademska.

Twenty years ago, Garrett Hawke gave up everything for love.

He gave up a life that he had built on hopes and dreams that had long since been shattered, a life built with blood and sweat and tears and grief and loss.

But he still had love.

He still had Anders.

And Anders loved him back.

Fifteen years ago, Garrett Hawke's hair was just starting to turn grey, the color just beginning to fade near his temples and across his scruffy beard. Anders liked to tease him about it in-between playful, affectionate kisses, somehow forgetting his own slowly receding hairline, which Garrett was all too happy to point out with a smile.

Sometimes he only pretended to sleep at night, because he knew Anders was lying there wide awake beside him, breathing slow and deep but only resting, not really sleeping, knowing that if he let his consciousness slip away, that the nightmares would come. And Garrett could only lay there and hold Anders' hand with a silent promise that everything would be all right.

But he still had love.

He still had Anders.

And Anders loved him back.

Ten years ago, Garrett Hawke was still afraid of settling down in one place for too long, but the years were beginning to take their toll on Anders, for reasons that they both worried over in silence but were too afraid to talk about.

Garrett's hair was more salt than pepper, then, though as thick and full as it ever was. Anders couldn't help but think that he looked just like his father, at least from what he could make out from the old, creased, faded family portrait that Hawke had held on to over the years.

Anders' hair was as bright as ever, the same dirty reddish gold that Garrett remembered from the day they first met, even if it was thinning at the top and sides. Garrett complained facetiously that every year there seemed to be less of it to run his fingers through.

But he still had love.

He still had Anders.

And Anders loved him back.

Five years ago, Garrett Hawke gave in to the overwhelming sense of weariness and fear he felt every time he looked at Anders, and finally settled down.

Most nights were sleepless for both of them, Garrett plagued by fears of being caught even though fifteen years had passed, because fifteen years was nothing to the Chantry. He and Anders shared sleepless nights together more often than not, embracing each other quietly in the dark and wanting to speak, but never quite finding the right words to give voice to their fears.

On the rare nights when Anders did sleep, Garrett sat quietly beside him, watchful, as if he could guard his rest and keep the nightmares at bay. Sometimes, he drew back a shabby curtain from the window so that he could see Anders' face in the moonlight, his features softened by a rare expression of peace.

And Garrett was there beside him, with his fingers threaded gently through Anders' slightly smaller ones, alone with his thoughts and his fears.

But he still had love.

He still had Anders.

And Anders loved him back.

One year ago, Garrett Hawke knew that his fears were about to catch up with him.

They rose from bed together shortly before sunrise on one particularly bleak, grey morning, after having both slept through the night - an exceptional rarity. Anders had remained sitting silently at the side of the bed for a length of time after waking, staring out the window wordlessly at nothing in particular, watching the light brighten and seep in through the dirty glass, dimmer in the spots where it was dirtiest.

Garrett sat a few feet away on his side of the bed, too afraid of interrupting Anders' singular moment of peace to move or clear his throat or even breathe too deeply.

When Anders finally did rise, he turned back and stretched his long, slender limbs and tired joints out across the bed, laying his head gently against Garrett's warm, welcoming lap. Garrett ran his fingers through Anders' fine blond hair, which had finally given way to grey here and there, amongst the thinned-out reddish gold.

From Anders' hair, Garrett's fingers lightly stroked his cheek, which felt a little hollow. Anders had been eating less, and had begun to lose weight over the last few months. He'd grown quieter, more withdrawn, and had taken to staring at random objects or out the windows for long periods of time, his eyes focusing on something that it seemed only he could see. In his moments of lucidity, he was as loving as he had ever been, but the spaces in-between seemed to grow longer and longer as time went on.

But he still had love.

He still had Anders.

And Anders loved him back.

But on that misty, grey morning, as Anders lay with his head against Garrett's lap while Garrett traced every line and curve of his face with rough, callused fingertips, Anders breathed a heavy sigh and whispered quietly as he started out at their room with tired, heavy eyes.

"Soon."

Garrett needed no explanation. They both knew what it meant.

Time was running out.

Twenty-four hours ago, Garrett held the man he loved in his arms for the last time. He tried to memorize every look and every touch, even though he knew that even his memories would fade away, eventually, but for those few precious moments, Anders was still his, and nothing could take that away.

Twelve hours ago, they had set out on their last walk together. They did not need to pack, and they needed no map.

Thirty minutes ago, they had reached the furthest point that Anders would go with Garrett at his side.

Five minutes ago, Garrett felt Anders' fingers slip away.

Three minutes ago, Garrett swallowed at a lump that was growing in his throat.

"Are you sure about this?" he asked.

"I'm not sure about anything," Anders responded, almost too quietly to hear. He tried to be strong and smile, but the smile broke and his face fell along with it.

He turned before Garrett could see him fall apart completely.

Two minutes ago, Anders walked away without looking back.

One minute ago, Garrett felt his heart break.

He still had love.

But Anders was gone.

And Garrett needed him back.

Twenty years ago, Garrett Hawke gave up everything for love.

Twenty seconds ago, he realized he'd rather die without it.

He plunges into the darkness.

A familiar hand finds his.

He still has love.

He still has Anders.

And Anders loves him back.


End file.
